


Greetings from Night Vale

by StormFireGirl



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Autism, Carlos is Human, Cecil Has Tentacles, Cecil Is a Good Boyfriend, Cecil is Inhuman, Cecil is a Dork, F/M, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Original Character-centric, POV Original Character, Polyamory, Protective Carlos, Scientist Carlos (Welcome to Night Vale), Steve Carlsberg is a Jerk, Tattooed Cecil, Typical Night Vale Weirdness
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-18
Updated: 2016-09-18
Packaged: 2018-08-15 18:28:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8068123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StormFireGirl/pseuds/StormFireGirl
Summary: I found 'here' (wherever here is) to start over when my old life fell to shambles. I just didn't expect becoming another famous celebrity in the town where monsters roam free, logic is whacked up and all sorts of weirdness exists! But these are my memoirs, my days and my adventures living in a town that could kill me, eventually.A small price to pay for beginning anew, I suppose.





	

"Another day, another door." I muttered as I took out my keys from her briefcase. The slightly dilapidated radio station looms over me, tall and dark, mysterious and foreboding...

**_*Click, clack. Click, clack_.***

My short squat heels clapped against the cold concrete floors, briefcase clutched in one hand. I have to look professional, Management doesn't want me to come into work looking like a slob. Dress slacks, button-up blouse and my gold 'autism awareness' bracelet that my aunt gave me before I turned 18.

I hardly remembered my old life, before Night Vale. It was better that way... After Carissa, my wife's sudden death and my parents not helping and focusing on my sister's budding animation career. I, a pansexual author and editor had packed my bags, bid adieu to my life in the city and just... Drove. On a path to nowhere, really.

And when you drive down that road aimlessly, needing to escape reality, sometimes you get lucky and wind up in a whole new one.

Three days, money drizzling to a near empty and lost in Nevada, I broke down crying. I was lost, figuratively and literally. Widowed at age 27, with no one to fall back on, I was out in the desert with nowhere to go and no hope left. Then, when I looked up, I saw a sign. It hadn't been there before...

 

......

 

  
I set down my briefcase. Cecil will be here soon, expecting the reports. Things run like a well-oiled machine, I being a primary gear. These Editorial jobs where you have to be on the dot and working with machines that have their quirks makes for coffee-fuelled stress and sarcastic remarks. I had a small radio set on my desk, a long table with a filing cabinet underneath. On one end was the printer, the other my coffee maker and tiny fridge with my flavoured creamers. In the middle, was of course myself, seated with my laptop and briefcase and two trays one labeled **'IN'** and the other **'OUT'**. There was also an old push-dial phone with a long, twisty cord that's seen better days.

The clock overhead is stuck at five-thirty. My laptop says its seven-forty-five. The phone rings, and I answer.

"Night Vale Radio Station, News Editor Nicole speaking. How may I help you?"

 _"Yes I want to inform the radio station..."_ Here we go, I'm on the job. I pull up a document, blank and I typed out a few notes. It was Old Lady Johnston, talking about her angels again. Something about-

"So you're saying the Angels did what?"

_"They predicted I'll win the Night Vale Bake Off! So everyone better quit while they're ahead!"_

"I see." I typed it out. "Is that all?"

_"Oh, they asked when you'd drop by to sample my apple fritters!"_

"I'll see about tomorrow. Thank you, and have a good day." I hung up and then one of the few surviving interns entered, waving a paper.

"I got it! I got the story on Mayor Dana!"

"What story?" I took the paper, and scanned it over with a frown. So many grammatical errors, so little time. I waved him off and entered it into the computer. Usually they send it to me by email-

Sure enough, five of them popped up.

 

.....

 

Eight 'o clock. Eight thirty, Cecil would arrive. Hurry, hurry! Not much time left!

I soon had about nine pages of the news, and proceeded to print them, making sure everything was set.

**_*WHRRR-CLANK!*_ **

An unprofessional curse exited my mouth as I stood up, walked over and glared at the printer. "Come on! Cough up the rest, dammit!"

Nothing.

"Don't make me hit you." I growled.

**_*WHRR-CHK-INK!*_ **

There we go! Now it worked! I grabbed the papers and put them into the 'OUT' box, sitting at my station as a familiar presence entered.

"Good day, Cecil." As usual, the man was dressed in some very ah... Interesting garments. Interesting being the best word I could describe his sequinned shirt, bedazzled cargo pants and beanie. "Was Janice over last night?"

"No, I did these myself!" He tells me proudly.

Ah. Well, why wasn't I surprised?

He took the papers, and walked into the radio booth, shutting the door. I instantly cranked on the radio, on standby. Just another day...

"The Mayor has established a new law, banning the use of wheat and wheat by-products as they have been found to turn into dangerous snakes."

Just another day in Night Vale.


End file.
